


From Here On Out

by Not_The_Holy_Wat_er



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gun Violence, Hallucinations, Insomnia, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Miscarriage, Muteness, Nightmares, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Post-Apocalypse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Sexual Violence, Slow Burn, Underage Rape/Non-con, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:49:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29680062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_The_Holy_Wat_er/pseuds/Not_The_Holy_Wat_er
Summary: She thought her life had been bad enough.She thought she deserved a break.It seems, the world may always work against her.-Always alone. Always hurting. Always... Dying.They say somethings happen for a reason, but she has a whole life to prove that wrong.Never loved. Never found. Never... Free.They say that the mind is a person's biggest prison. Surely someone was not reading her life?Almost gone. Almost alive. Almost... Dead.It seems the world won't allow her to live or die. Perhaps that's why they called it surviving.-"I'm a body without a soul. I have the blood and the structure that make me alive, but I do not have the emotion to live."
Relationships: Fay/Silas, Past Wyatt/Fay, Xavier/Lily





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This story is extremely dark, and has many triggering topics that are described in detail. If you cannot handle that, then I suggest not reading it.

Running. That's all she knew. And all she knew how to do. Closer. Faster. Further. The running never ended. Her feet never stopped. Well, not long enough for a proper break. Fear had become her friend. Fear let her know when an enemy was nearby, it let her know when she was about to be encased in her own mind and memories. She dodged tree branches and bushes along with traps and ground holes. She felt that same feeling that she hated, fear.

_The ten year old girl hid under her bed hoping she was hidden, she tried to make no sound but with her crying it was near impossible. Her foster father just kept saying 'I just want to play', with each step closer. She jumped when she both saw and heard the footsteps right in the open doorway. He repeated it again causing the little girl to cover her mouth. His footsteps came closer and it was silent for a moment before she was pulled out from under by the ankle. She screamed. "I don't wanna play!"_

The memories kept going, it didn't matter what she did they wouldn't stop. So eventually she became neutral to the reminders of what haunted her. Of course, that neutrality often broke when they came unexpectedly. She heard footsteps nearer and she looked behind her, only looking back in time to scratch her cheek on a branch. Fay didn't stop. She didn't stop running, behind her were people who had made themselves her enemies. She didn't want to kill them. She didn't want them to kill her, but not everyone gets what they want.

_The man, her foster father, or one of them anyways. Just grinned wickedly at her before shoving her onto the bed and positioning himself on top of her. She started kicking and screaming before eventually he got annoyed and wrapped one hand around her tiny neck and squeezed. It was a matter of seconds before she gripped his wrist not noticing his hand reached for her underwear. She didn't notice he had started pulling them down until they were off. But she had no strength to fight against it and even if she tried there was no chance when she was so much smaller than him._

Fay shook her head but her steps continued she saw the end of the forest ahead of her and turned instead, being in the open would do her no good, it would make her an easy target. And she heard the feet of about five men. She could dodge well, but five guns shooting at her all at once was too much. She was unaware of the ditch ahead of her her steps speeding up as a rush of adrenaline shot through her body. If she could get far enough ahead she'd have the upper hand and would be able to take them all out. So that's what she did. For a while.

_The little girl shouted out her pleas of mercy. But they were silenced for a second up until a scream ripped from her lips followed by a wail. Her innocence was taken from her mercilessly and heartlessly. It had been only a few minutes before darkness encased her vision. She had passed out from both pain and mental exhaustion._

The blonde woman had lost her focus and fell before realizing there had been a ditch. She rolled down leaves, and grass getting lost in her pale locks. There would be no getting back on track of getting ahead. So she had to do it the hard way, taking out one of her pistols she picked a perfect spot where there was a tree growing from the hill. She waited until the footsteps got closer, how she heard? Courtesy of the dead Autumn leaves. It was silent.

_A twelve year old girl held the hand of her best friend and crush as they walked. They had escaped the foster home together. He was the one boy who spoke to her there, he got her to open up to him after the nightmare that had been her reality. She was the only person she really ever spoke to. Looking up at the starry sky she spoke, "do you think someone is watching us from up there?" She felt her cheeks heat up when he laughed and answered her, 'I think there is someone watching us. But it's from here, not there', he spoke pointing to her chest. Or her heart more specifically._

That was one memory she didn't regret, she had decided that a long time ago, that's when she had fallen in love with him. Wyatt. Of course, good things never stay good for so long. A gun shot sounded and she pointed her gun around the tree sticking her head far enough to see. It went back and forth as they played gun tag. Four men dead. Two still up, but she had to save her ammo. She knew it was the same for them when they stopped firing. She put her gun back in the waistband of her jeans and waited. 

_"No, we can find our own way around." But they didn't listen. Of course they didn't listen. And now they were held under the circumstances with which chains and rope were involved. A whimper escaped the girl's throat and Wyatt looked at her with wide eyes as if telling her she had to be quiet. He was right, as he always was. It was then that she realized there were places worse than her foster home._

She looked around the tree when she felt the metal of gun barrel at the back of her head. _So that's how they wanted to play. So be it._ Slowly she raised her arms as if surrendering before standing to her feet, turning and kicking the pistol before the soldier could order her to stop. She kicked her leg again not fazed when the soldier caught her ankle. They stayed in that position for a few moments when she kicked of the ground twisting and kicking him square in the chest freeing her leg from his grip.

_Every day was torture; emotionally, physically, and for Fay, sexually as well. How someone could do something like this to anyone was beyond them. Slowly they were broken down. Screams ripped from Fay's mouth as burning metal was pressed against her skin. They had branded her, or more specifically, him. Nathan was a man who took great interest in her. He played with her even when they said they were done for the day._

Fay got into position her fists up and leaving no open spot for a good hit. After she had healed when she escaped she spent her time training. From gun, to melee, to hand to hand, even just balance. She was not going to let herself feel weak again. Just two of them, easy. She had taken out the other four with her gun. The blonde waited for the soldiers to attack, countering was easier than attacking with no notion of what could happen, while she normally preferred kicking she was no worse with her hands. She dodged a punch and countered a kick with one of her own.

_The thirteen year old cried out at the feeling of burning iron pressed to her skin, she didn't hear Wyatt begging for them to stop. She had fallen in love with him. It wasn't a surprise after all they had went through together. They had even had their first kiss, on her thirteenth birthday, the only reason they'd known was the fact that the men keeping them there purposely reminded them of what day it was every day for the past two years. She was young yes, but the feelings were always there. Her vision went dark as she blacked out from the pain._

She was kicked in the back by the other soldier which caused her to stumble forward and trip. Quickly she rolled onto her back and grabbing a long stick blocked a kick. She saw an open point and swiped her foot beneath the soldier's which was still planted on the ground. Her blonde hair flew in front of her face as she got up in a moment's notice stick still in hand. Two soldiers one on either side of her.

_'No' and 'Stop' ripped from her mouth as she watched those men beat her beloved into oblivion. Fourteen now. She had seen and been through far more than most people went through in a lifetime. She couldn't run towards him. She couldn't save him from the undeserved beating he was getting from trying to protect her. Her arms were held behind her by one of the men as she listened to the sounds of grunts, pained moans. And, skin beating against skin. He was bloodied and she had witnessed him break at last. They had finally stepped away from him and she had fallen to her knees trying to get out of one of the men's grip. She looked at him, he was wheezing and she could see that every breath he took hurt. Fay crawled to him._

It was her who attacked first this time using the stick as a distraction she let one soldier grip the stick while her foot connected with the face of the other. Yanking the stick hard enough it caused the first soldier to fall. It was then that she took a blade from her pocket. Her attention varied between the two both still trying to regain their composure. She could attack, but she played fair. She ducked under a punch thrown and grabbed his wrist twisting it and his arm back behind his back. Her blade now rested on his neck as she looked at the other soldier. She mouthed the word, 'sorry' before digging the knife into the neck of the soldier. Once she knew he was dead she took the knife from his neck and looked at the remaining soldier again.

_Her voice was heard but no words were spoken as she pulled his head into her lap as gently as possible. He looked up at her. Fay's tears fell onto his face as she stroked his hair. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and then opened them. Her heart pounded when she saw the soft smile upon his lips, and she vaguely remembered him saying, 'live for me', and his heart stopped. A broken cry ripped from her lips and she was left alone. She sobbed for hours begging him not to leave her alone. She had lied her head against his chest. And when she finally calmed down, whispered. "I love you. And I will." That was the last time she spoke._

A tear fell from her eye and she was shoved against a tree, her mind was fogged but her body kept fighting. Sound had left her ears when she was reminded of that memory. Her strength fought to keep the blade pointing at the soldier and she had for a while. Her shoulder fell victim to the blade before she could blink but she didn't let it stop her immediately pushing the male away she pulled out her pistol and fired.

_Fay had lost all hope. All faith that she would ever be found. She looked at the tray that had scraps of food on it in pure nothingness. Her eyes were blank of any emotion. She was hungry but wasn't. She was lonely but couldn't seem to care. She was in pain but couldn't feel it. She was exhausted but not tired. Her world was full of grays. No color. No light. But she had made a promise._

She slid down the tree covering her mouth. Six more people dead. Six more people dead at her own hand. She was the monster she had sworn she'd never be. At eighteen, she had killed more people than she could count. Self defense or not. Killing a killer made you a killer. Fay sat there for a while just looking at the two soldiers that were in her sight. How many of them were forced into this life? How many of them wanted nothing more than to be in their homes, safe and away from danger? Of course they were rhetorical questions. She felt bad for them.

_The blonde had turned fifteen before she was finally released and found near death. But she had been rescued and taken to the hospital unfortunately. Which meant she had to explain to them she had no family for them to contact. It was a shame she couldn't without writing it down. When she was healed they had called someone from the system to come get her but by the time they got to her room she was gone. Had left not wanting to return to the nightmare that put her in that position in the first place. She was back to wandering, only this time it was alone._

The wind blew through her hair and she had been sitting there for at least an hour before pushing herself to her feet. With nimble hands she searched the bodies for ammunition and anything that might keep her on her feet. With that she started her journey again, to where? She had no idea. She went wherever her feet guided her. That's how it is, and that's how it's always been.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two more characters enter the story.

Nineteen years old and she was sitting in an abandoned car resting her feet. She hadn't taken her boots off in ages afraid of what she might see. Sometimes it was a miracle she was still able to walk. Other times she didn't care. It didn't matter as she had learned to block out pain, otherwise she'd have never made it this far. Closing her eyes for a few minutes she just sat there in the backseat of the empty car imagining what life could have been. Surely there was one for her. Every vessel in her being said otherwise and she had finally gotten out of the car taking a minute to regain her balance. If her memory was correct there was a small town at least five miles East, she'd reach it by daylight.

Pushing the car door open she grabbed her bag and threw it over her shoulder. She picked up some dead Autumn leaves and crumbled them up letting them fall from her hand slowly. Turning her eyes towards the sky she looked at where the moon was and started heading that direction. She knew what day it was because she had been forced to. It was a way of coping with everything that had happened. She counted the days. Today it was _October 25th, 2043_. Approximately three years after the first attack.

She'd see a person every now and again but then they were just gone. Because in this world it was kill or be killed. No one knows who to trust and who not to trust. In the end it's always the same. Dead or alive, the future has already been given. Who was she to change that?

And so she continued on leaving her mind blank. Thinking was the art of suicide in this world. Thinking brought back memories one could never erase. Although no memories could ever be erased or forgotten. Just hidden with the help of lock and key.

Fay stood in the middle of an open field, no one around to see her, but nowhere to hide if someone did. Instead she decided to lay down.

Looking at the sky you wouldn't know anything was wrong. It was peaceful. Quiet. One could forget every bad thing that happened if they just stared at the sky and relaxed. Of course, she could never relax. It just wasn't even a possibility. She was a person who was always on guard no matter where she was. A side effect of losing everything. A side effect of being used. A side effect of being alone.

Of all the things that happened to her, this had to be the best. People were dying, but they had it easy. No one could see the emptiness that was herself. Treading lightly towards the edge, waiting to fall or be pushed off.

Her eyes fluttered with sleep but she kept them open in fear. Fear of remembrance. Fear of reminder. Her dreams weren't dreams. They were real. They were memories. She had always waited for the day when death do her part. At least then, she could fall into an eternal sleep with no memories of what happened in the past.

In her nineteen years she had been through more than most elderly people go through in their lifetime. Her first kill, was Wyatt, because doing nothing was worse than doing the killing. She was sixteen when she killed with her bare hands for the first time. In the process of breaking her, Nathan had her kill an innocent woman with a child waiting for her at home. She had been shaking when she pulled the trigger, but what she saw in the woman's eyes was not fear; but pity. Because the woman watched as she tried to fight back, tried to make them change their minds. And she saw as Nathan pulled her into his arms and whispered horrid words in her ear, words that made her weak, words that made her heart stop.

_"Every moment you wait is another moment where you_ _are_ _watching a helpless Wyatt being beaten to death."_

Fay remembered everything about that day. From the sound of the whisper, to the nodding of the woman who made her wonder what having a caring mother was like. All to the feeling of the trigger and she pulled it. The scrapes on her knees where she had collapsed begging in a deathly silence for forgiveness. How she crawled to the woman's body and held her as if her own life depended on it. When she was ripped away from the corpse screaming out high pitched 'no's'. How she wished it had been her on the opposite side of the gun.

Now she was alone, no one forcing her to kill, but it being a survival instinct. As much as she didn't want to survive anymore. She was afraid of death. So she didn't have a choice but to continue on doing so.

For a woman who witnessed death more than she witnessed life, she'd become numb to the factor of watching the life flee from the eyes of victims to death. She had become used to being the last one standing. Become used to ending the lives of those suffering. Her knives were her hands and her guns were her heart, echoing loudly in her ears. Some times fast, others slow, the rest, not at all.

Metaphors had become the way of her life. Nothing ever described simply. If one did not get the metaphor, one would never understand her as a human. And maybe, she wasn't. Because a human wouldn't become numb to the sensation of killing. Every face had been burned into her memory and haunted her. From the soldiers. To the lives of innocence. To the smiling faces of past group members who finally got to leave their suffering behind. She was the last survivor. The last person left to suffer, and one day, she would fall. She longed for that day. For the day where she could leave her own suffering behind, and take flight into death without fear. For the day she could say her final goodbye without regret.

She looked at the clouds imagining what it felt like, to be weightless. To be above all else. For years she had been weighed down heavily by guilt. By depression. Frustration. Loneliness. And for some reason she couldn't think of anyone to blame but herself.

A woman who was broken and used throughout her childhood. Forced into a life no one could ever deserve. Forced to see things no child wanted to see. Yet she blamed only herself. For being weak. For not escaping sooner. For not ending it when she had the chance.

Fay fisted the dirt in frustration. It wasn't as though she could scream in anger and even if she could that would not be smart. Anyone might hear it. Anyone could feel threatened. In this world you think you're alone but there's always someone watching from the distance.

Rising from the ground, Fay shook off any dirt or grass that she could and grabbed her backpack. Closing her eyes she took a breath and looked up at the sky. The sun was bound to begin setting in half an hour so she'd have to find somewhere, a car, and abandoned building, to stay at through the night.

Her journey continued north. Her balance had begun to waver, but she continued walking. Weakness was a flaw even if it didn't last forever. Fay was a woman with few weaknesses, and even fewer that mattered. She had forced herself to become numb to pain, numb to death, and numb to killing. Numb, to living.

There was noises in the distance and she grabbed her gun dropping to a crouched position. The grass was tall enough to mask her position and she released a breath taking a slow step forward. Then she listened.

"There are six bodies back there and they haven't been there long." It was a girl. "Either someone knows we're here, or we're unknowingly walking into a trap."

Another person, a man spoke. "The bodies were soldiers, how can we be so sure they or however many there were would kill us as survivors?" It was a valid question, survivors were to stick together right? Wrong. Every man for himself.

"There were obviously multiple of them, one person couldn't do that alone, but you never know Xavier. We don't know who we can trust anymore."

Inching up a little she got just a short look at them before hearing the barking of two dogs. She dropped into a flat position invisible to them because of the grass, but she heard the barks coming closer. Moving her hands around she found a rock and threw it elsewhere, successfully distracting the dogs. She took this chance to grab her backpack and gun, then bolt, her feet carrying her north. She knew they were firing, but even in a clearing, hitting a moving target was nearly impossible when they made themselves scared enough to run like the ground was crumbling behind them.

It took about ten seconds flat for her to reach the trees she hid behind one and caught her breath. She looked around the tree making sure she was in the clear and then ran again. She ran through the remainder of the trees and to the abandoned town across the street. But she stopped, slowing down immediately.

Looking behind her she saw the two and their dogs following. Closing her eyes she released a breath and took a step, then another, and sped up with each step. She snuck behind a wall looking around she pulled back at the sight of a soldier. Cursing in her head she waited for the soldier to turn around and when he did she snuck behind him and took him out with a hidden blade. She focused her sight on the rest of the soldiers.

Fay had about ten seconds before the soldier's blood spilled far enough to be seen by another. That gave her approximately five seconds to pat the dead down and make sure there was nothing of use and then run. So she did, she grabbed a pocket knife and sprinted to the next building.

Looking behind her she took a step back and was about to turn around when a hand was placed over her mouth and she was pulled against the chest of a soldier. In her ear he whispered with a thick accent. "Don't scream and we won't have any problems." That had her wanting to laugh at the irony. One, because she couldn't scream if she wanted to, and two, because the only person who would have any problems was him. She wasn't letting anyone take advantage of her again. She swore that to herself when she ran from the hospital at the fresh age of fifteen.

The blonde took a look at the wall and leaned back against the soldier kicking her legs up and against the bricks. She pushed off strong and forced the man to fall and listened to the thud. It was a hard fall, there would be no getting up. And just to make sure she checked his pulse. Standing she shook her head and pulled out her silenced gun. She took out the two soldiers to the right. Closing her eyes she listened for footsteps and voices. There were three soldiers left. And then there were the two survivors from before. She could tell by their hostility and whispers that they were wary. There was no reason not to be.

She snuck unable to be seen by anyone left alive. Standing she looked around she could take out two of them quickly and then melee the last guy.

Fay found a way to get behind them without being seen and took it. She had her pistol out and ready. Aimed, and fired. One shot. Two shots. And the sound of their bodies landing on the floor. She put the gun in her holster and let the last soldier spot her. Then she waited. After all, the best offense was a good defense was it not? The soldier was slow, so this fight would end easily. She dropped her backpack.

One. She got into a stance fit for running. Two. Her eyes landed on the spot she would stop. Three. She took off running moments after the soldier took his first step.

Five steps in she slid passed the soldier got up quickly and pressed a dagger that came from the holster on her thigh to his neck. The element of surprise. Five seconds later he was dropping on his knees choking on his own blood.

When she turned she was faced with the image of two dogs and two people. Their hands shook with guns in their hands. She holstered the dagger. Although they didn't seem scared, the look in their eyes told her they hadn't become numb to killing. She shook her head and smiled sadly. How lucky of them. She sent a wave as a silent goodbye and turned around walking to her backpack. She leaned down to grab it but stopped when she heard their conversation.

"You saw how she slaughtered all those people like it was nothing Xavier." The girl must've been looking at the man with a pleading look.

"Soldiers Lily, they were soldiers who were trying to kill not just us, but our whole country." As for the guy who now went by Xavier, he seemed to still be looking at her. She could feel his eyes on her.

"Soldiers are still people!" The girl who now coveted the name Lily had shouted. "There's obviously something wrong with her, I mean she hasn't even spoken since she saw us."

Now that had Fay laughing like a maniac, although it wasn't noticed unless you watched the sudden uncontrollable tremors that went through her body. There was indeed something wrong with her, she knew that from the first time she realized she was in a foster home rather than a real home, with living parents. There must've been something wrong that caused the abandonment.

Then to her voice. She'd been silent for a year before she escaped her prison. And she had been silent ever since. The problem was not physical but mental. It was all the trauma she was forced to go through. She could eventually find her voice again, but that would take support and mental strength that she didn't have. She would have to put her trust into someone, she would have to care about someone. She couldn't so that, because everyone she cared about died right in front of her.

"Did you ever consider there being a reason why?" The man had sense, but if they were debating on whether or not to let her join their little group it was going to end there. She wouldn't, in fact if there were anything she refused to do most, it was join another group. She'd rather be left in darkness to face her biggest fear than to care about someone again. That had been her biggest mistake.

So without notifying them she picked up her backpack and walked away. In a world where there was no one, she was alone. In a world where there was everyone she was drowning. No matter what the circumstances, grouping up wasn't an option because she would drown. In what? Her own mind perhaps. Or maybe, the guilt. The guilt of knowing they were going to die before her own eyes. The guilt of knowing she was trapped. The guilt of knowing she wouldn't be able to save them. The guilt of being afraid of death.

The guilt of being guilty.


	3. Chapter Three

Items crashing to the floor was heard loud and clear. A slow gasp fell from her lips as she crouched down. Her hands ran through her hair repetitively. Her mind was going every which way. She couldn't deal with it. It made her physical pain come back because she couldn't simply block everything out with her mind going haywire.

Five years ago today she had watched helplessly as her first love was murdered. It was a slow and agonizing death. She remembered how he smiled at her. How he caressed her head and asked her to live for him. She couldn't do it. She couldn't live. She was surviving but living was impossible.

The girl shook in her own agonizing pain. From her feet to her legs, to the cuts, scratches and bruises she'd received. Then there was the awful pain in her heart. It had her keeling over her forehead pressed against the rough wooden floor of the building. Her hand gripped her chest and she tried catching her breath. Silent screams fell from her quivering lips. Tears fell from her eyes and her body shook in unbearable pain.

Fay crawled to her backpack and shakily pulled it open her teeth grinding against each other. She found the morphine and syringe. She sat up against the wall and insert the syringe into the bottle. The dosage was a little higher than it should've been, she knew that, but she didn't care. She found a vein then she gave herself the shot.

Taking the syringe out she dropped it and let her arms fall at her sides waiting for the effects. She curled into herself. Her eyes stared tirelessly at the ceiling. Surviving was exhausting. She blinked her eyes heavy. Her body needed sleep, but her mind couldn't take that idea. Sleep was a rarity for her, only an hour or two at a time and that was every few days.

It had been entire week since she'd seen the survivors. The girl wondered if they were still alive. Had they made it to the next town? She didn't care personally it was just curiosity. Fay pushed herself up on shaky legs and walked to the window. She found a cabin in the middle of nowhere. So she had taken shelter in it.

Walking to the bathroom she grabbed the bag from the drugstore. She met her own eyes in the mirror. Dead, brown eyes. Her skin was pale. Her mid back length hair had lost the shine it once had. She put the bag on the counter, wiped her remaining tears and took some scissors and a box of hair dye out.

She cut her hair up to her mid neck . She stripped herself of her clothes. Mixed the contents of the hair dye as told by the instructions. Her eyes closed as she applied the dye. For every section done a new tear fell. When she done she stared at herself in the mirror. Her ribs were visible. Her skin was white as snow. Her lips quivered. She stood there bare to herself. Her eyes found the burned in scar where lay a man's initials, yet she still couldn't recognize the person in front of her. Branded like a horse, or a cow. She was owned and the man was nowhere in sight.

Fay waited for an hour before stepping into the shower. That was one of the few good things about the recent years. There was still running water you just have to find places to use it.

Even when the excess dye washed away she stayed under the water. The girl reached down and turned the faucet off. Stepping out of the shower she wiped her hand on the mirror. Her hair was now a faded pastel pink. She didn't recognize herself; maybe though, that's was the point. She wanted to change. But, changing an appearance did nothing to the person inside.

She walked throughout the house naked. It wasn't new to her, and her dignity had been drained. Fay walked to one of the bedrooms and ghosted her fingers over the dressers. Getting to the closet she pulled it open. Within it was some shirts, dresses, sweaters. It had her wondering who had lived here. Who lived here and died somewhere else? Who was forced to leave their home vacant? Who cried out for mercy only to accept death? She backed up and found herself facing another mirror, this one a full length mirror. She blinked.

Before her stood her thirteen year old self. The only thing she could think were the words, 'I'm sorry'. She was sorry for what that girl would go through in life, sorry for the fact that she had been too weak to stop any of it, sorry that she was afraid. Fear was the biggest weakness in the line of surviving. It could be your biggest weakness, or your greatest strength. While she had come in contact with death more than once she herself was still afraid of dying. Afraid of not breathing. Afraid of her last heartbeat.

She mouthed so many words that she wished she could say. So many words she wished she could hear. So many words that she wished someone told her before. A wave of dizziness hit her and she found herself stumbling to the bed. She crawled into it and curled herself into the blanket, her skin still bare. Anyone could come inside the house and assault her in her state of being, yet, she couldn't find it in her to care. Her body hadn't been her own in years. As bad as that sounded it was nothing but truth. She'd been used and tormented physically for four years by the same men. There was even a scar of proof that she wasn't her own person, her body having been branded by a man named Nathan. A man who at one point forced her mind into believing he was the only thing on the planet that cared for her. And she supposed that in a way it was true. The man fed her, let her bathe, let her sleep, often comforted her, and even sometimes presented her with gifts from time to time, Christmas, and her birthday. And she'd be lying if she said he never educated her. In the end though she was just a toy, someone to do his dirty work and satisfy his every need no matter what that need was. Fay often still felt his hands upon her body. The thought of him made her want to shrivel up and die.

Fay once thought there was nothing worse than living in a terror ridden house with her foster family and best friend. Now she couldn't think of anything that would be better. Fay lost her virginity at the hands of a man who was supposed to protect her and father her.

Bad things happen in life. Whether someone wants them to or not. And then there are the lives that are all bad and no good. Fay could attest to that.

The quiet moments were the worst. She'd rather be in a fight with the enemy then be alone to think. So many times, so many forced decisions. So many moments. So much blood. So many forced miscarriages. She was in fact a murderer. Yet the one's she didn't kill with her own hands, hurt the most.

Pain was an object. One she'd mostly learned to become immune to. Something she could flick away like a fly. In the rare cases where she couldn't get rid of it, it was unbearable. Like combining every injury she ever had into one moment of pain that lasted an eternity.

Fay walked out to her bag and grabbed her knife going back to the bathroom. She wrapped her hand around the blade and looked in the mirror. A new person. She let the knife fall cutting her palm and fingers. A really new person. She did it again. An unrecognizable person. And again. She knew she would stop before she bled out but that wasn't then. Again. Her hand was a beautiful crimson of her own blood and she brought it up to her face. Then she wiped it all over her.

A different person.

-

People often wonder what was the difference between peace and content. Or they think it's the same. Fay was not and would probably never be close to being at peace, but she was content with that. Because she knew life couldn't get any worse, and in the silence of her mind. She knew things couldn't get any better either. She was content with her life, because it was how she lived it. It was not good. It wasn't even okay. But not everyone was meant to lead the good life.

Fay, the girl who was born as Freya, was a new person. Even if she couldn't see it. There were things that one's own person could not see, until someone else saw it first. She was okay with that, because no one would see her new or old self. And that in and of itself sent relief down her spine. She put her blade to the mirror and carved her given name into it. Freya Noelle Washington. She had been given her name by a nurse, a nurse who was supposed to take her in. Adopt her. And that's all she knew about her week in the hospital. She could just imagine how different her life would have been if she had been taken in. She would've had a good life, probably have never met Wyatt, but also never would have lost her entire childhood. She smiled heartlessly. The only smile she knew how to manage. She was without a doubt, the most selfish person on the planet. And she was okay with that.


End file.
